


fill you up, calm you down

by sublime_jumbles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve is obsessive about museums, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, comfort/binge eating, don't even talk to me about the timeline of this crossover i do not have a clue, implied chubby!Raleigh, implied suicidal thoughts, therapist!Sam Wilson, young men talking through their issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublime_jumbles/pseuds/sublime_jumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from the prompt "THERAPY GROUP OF STEVE ROGERS AND RALEIGH BECKET LED BY SAM WILSON. EVERYONE IS V SAD. SOMETIMES SAM BRINGS DOUGHNUTS" over at my <a href="http://alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>!</p><p>also in honor of national doughnut day, because of reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fill you up, calm you down

Sam likes the ones with fillings, and - a little selfishly, he admits - he picks out the single lemon cream before the meeting starts. If this were a full group, he’d leave it, let the vets have their pick, but it’s just Rogers and Becket this morning, and Sam knows Steve’s partial to the chocolate-frosted anyway; Raleigh, the powdered sugar.

They haven’t been meeting as a group for long - maybe two months. Steve’s been coming voluntarily; Raleigh is here on a recommendation from the PPDC psychiatric department. Sam was impressed when he found out, when Raleigh first showed up in his office doorway, sad-eyed and wearing a sweater much too heavy for D.C. in August - he didn’t realize he was on the radar all the way up in Alaska.

They’re a little rocky this morning - Steve is worrying his doughnut into pieces on a napkin in his lap, and Raleigh’s gone, thousand-yard stare reaching far beyond Sam. The doughnuts are situated out of his reach; Sam has learned from past meetings that Raleigh will go through the whole box if it’s anywhere near him. Not out of greed, he’d explained shamefacedly to Sam after one of their early sessions, or even hunger, necessarily - just a need to try to drown out the silence in his head. Sam nodded, told him not to be embarrassed: “That’s why you’re here, bud. To work through it. Try a mug of hot green tea instead. Fills you up, calms you down.”

Sometimes, now, Raleigh brings a thermos to group with him, and that’s how Sam can tell whether he’s having a good day or a bad day. A good day means self-control, it means having the presence of mind to take Sam’s advice instead of falling back on his binge-eating habit. The thermos isn’t with him today, though.

Steve is harder to read. He’s trained himself well to keep a smile on his face no matter what’s wreaking havoc inside his head, and more than once Sam’s had to grab him by the shoulder after a glazed-over “I’m fine” and demand a more honest answer. But today he’s easy, tearing at the pastry in his hands and jiggling his leg, and Sam surveys both of them, trying to figure out the common denominator.

"All right, you two," he says finally. "What’s riling you up? You haven’t looked this bad in a while."

He sugarcoated things for them, at the beginning. Danced around telling it like it is, until each of them took him aside separately and told him they were better off hearing it straight. Steve’s had enough of his modern life sugarcoated for him by SHIELD, especially when he first woke up, and he said his original role as Captain America was to essentially sugarcoat the entire war for the rest of the country. He’s done, he said. He’s ready for honesty, now. Raleigh was blunter - “I served under Marshal Pentecost,” he told Sam - even Sam, across the country, knows Marshal Pentecost. “You think I can’t take it straight, you got it wrong. Won’t be here long if you wanna spoon-feed this to me.”

So Sam calls it like he sees it these days. “Come on,” he prods when they’re silent. “Y’all look like shit. What’s going on?”

Steve rips off another hunk of doughnut. Raleigh pulls his arms tighter across his belly. Sam feels his own mouth tighten.

"It’s fuckin’ cold," Raleigh grinds out finally, and Steve nods.

It’s starting to get chilly out - the first fall day to drop below forty - and Sam realizes that he’s only dealt with these two in warm weather. His patients have usually seen Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait - all sweltering, sandy, stifling - but that’s not where Rogers and Becket have been. And Sam’s sure that the Alps and the coast of Alaska are much, much colder than D.C. is today, but a trigger’s a trigger.

"Tell me about it," Sam urges.

Steve glances at Raleigh, whose gaze has landed on the box of doughnuts. “It’s strange,” says Steve, and Sam motions for him to continue before getting up and pouring a glass of water, pushing it into Raleigh’s hands. Raleigh nods a thank-you, drains the glass, and his eyes refocus.

"It feels like good things and bad things," Steve goes on. "It feels like winter in Brooklyn, when things were good. We couldn’t afford the heat, had to share a bed" - he pauses, as if waiting for Raleigh to snicker, but Raleigh’s silent, staring into his glass - "but we made do, you know?"

Sam nods. “Good. Go on.”

"So it’s those things," Steve says, "snow and holidays and slogging through our paper routes - but it’s also the war, and the Alps, and" - he pauses again, like he’s catching his breath - "and the train, and that mission." He swallows hard. "It’s not - it doesn’t hurt, really. It’s just a … a heaviness, everywhere."

"I know," Sam says quietly. "And what do you do, when you feel like this?"

"Running helps," says Steve. "Or staying indoors. I spend a lot of time at the museums here. They’re warm inside, and there’s a lot to focus on."

Sam and Steve have discussed the museums before, Steve’s borderline-obsessive need to visit the Museum of American History. “It makes it still feel real,” he’s told Sam, and Sam has encouraged him not to live in that reality. Acknowledge it, learn from it, cherish it - but move on, man, you _have_ to move on.

"And music," Steve concludes. "Music helps. From the old days, sometimes, or more modern stuff when I need to get out of my head."

"Good," says Sam. "Good. Music and running are good. We’ve talked about the museums."

"Yeah," says Steve quietly. "I’m working on it."

"How many times did you go this week?"

Steve thinks. “Just twice.”

“ _Good_ ,” says Sam, emphatically. “I’m proud of you, man. That’s progress.”

He turns to Raleigh. “How about you? How does the cold make you feel?”

Raleigh closes his eyes. “Helpless,” he offers. “Edgy. And …”

"And?" Sam prompts.

"Reckless," says Raleigh, voice jagged. "Desperate."

"And how do you deal with those feelings, when you get them? How are you going to deal when you leave today?"

Because Sam knows that although Steve’s hurting, he won’t do anything reckless. Steve’s been hurting a long time; he knows how to control it. But Raleigh’s wounds are newer, rawer, and Sam’s seen the scars. He’s got a fear for Raleigh that he doesn’t have for Steve. Raleigh’s a loose cannon sometimes, doesn’t always think first, and some of the scars he showed Sam are deep enough to make him worry.

"And don’t you lie to me," Sam adds. "Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear."

Raleigh sits forward. “Okay,” he says, bobbing his head. “I’m gonna go buy lunch. Maybe ask you to come with me, because I’m not feeling real good today. And then - go home and try to sleep, probably. Do the breathing things we practiced. Take a Xanax.”

"No food coma?" Sam clarifies. They’ve talked about this in their private sessions, his habit of eating himself to sleep when he gets too anxious to sleep on his own. Raleigh said it’s okay to bring it up here too, shame him out of the habit - said he needed the extra push after the time he showed up to a meeting after a binge at the diner down the block, sleepy and bloated and essentially useless in a therapy session.

"Nope," Raleigh affirms.

"You promise?"

"I promise," says Raleigh. It’s a little weary, but it’s not exasperated or aggressive like it used to be. 

"Good," says Sam. "I’m proud of you too."

Raleigh nods, looks sideways at Steve, who’s tearing bits off the napkin now. “You can come too,” he says gruffly, and Steve looks up, startled. “If you want.”

Sam watches, intrigued. Rogers and Becket work well in a group together - there’s a strong mutual respect between them, and they’ve gone through similar ordeals - but neither has ever expressed a real interest in getting to know the other outside of group. Sam’s got mixed feelings about this - on one hand, they could be extremely beneficial to each other’s healing process, but on the other, they could also drag each other down if one of them gets caught in a downward spiral.

"Sure," says Steve quietly. "Thank you."

But maybe, thinks Sam, this will be a good foundation for a friendship here. He’ll be around to mediate, and gauge how they interact with the other. And then in their separate sessions, he can advocate for or against friendships within their group.

"In that case," says Sam, "I suggest we adjourn to lunch, get something warm in the two of you."

They agree, unanimously.


End file.
